Page 8 of Still Forever
Jax
The line of black trucks slowed behind the estate that sat tucked away in the hills of northern Italy.
A large iron gate, almost the same height as the stone building, wrapped around it, enclosing the vineyard.
Even at this late hour, the air was thick with fog, making it hard to see the view below us.
One by one, the fleet of trucks came to a stop, and their engines shut off.
I swung open the door, my eyes sweeping the land just as Judah emerged from the truck behind me.
His face was laced with confusion, just like mine.
“Is this shit abandoned?” He closed the space between us as we looked around. A single light outside the door was on, the only sign that the place might have life inside. For there to have been almost twenty families here, there was no noise, no other cars, and no people as far as I could see.
“You check Trouble’s location?” I asked.
“Yeah, it says he’s here.” I grabbed my gun from my hip as we opened the iron gate and walked to the first door that we saw. I knocked on it.
In less than a second, it swung open. Rifles aimed directly toward us, causing us to point our guns in their direction. One of the guards said something to the other in a different language. Then they were lowered, and we were given the okay to come in with a simple head nod.
“Y’all niggas need some hospitality around this muhfucka.
” Judah sized one of the guards as he put his Glock back into his waistband.
I elbowed him in the side as I put mine away and stepped past the men.
The guard’s expression was stone. His eyes were dead, and his lips pressed thin.
Either he didn’t know English, or he had been trained to ignore everything but orders.
From the outside, it looked like a large estate—brick walls, an arched door, like somebody’s family lived behind it.
But once the gate opened, there was nothing domestic about it.
There was no house there, no windows, and no lights.
Just stone, silence, and a wide-open courtyard that felt more like a trap than a welcome.
The entire perimeter was surrounded by soldiers holding rifles, at least fifty or more.
I had never been one to be nervous in any situation, but I knew if anything went wrong, we couldn’t shoot our way out of this if we tried.
The soldier who escorted us led us to a building at the back of the vineyard; he knocked once and then entered.
The door opened, and I searched through the thick of the smoke before Trouble came into view.
He was sitting there, at a long wooden table, surrounded by Mafia elites.
His expression was relaxed, and he was smoking a cigar.
Before I made it to the empty seat next to him, we passed many men, shaking hands and offering our respects.
“Y’all good?” He raised an eyebrow after seeing the expression on our faces.
“Nigga hell no. Don’t invite us to no bullshit like this again, OG. I thought they kidnapped your ass, and we were going to have to go out this bitch like Cleo,” Judah gritted before I could even respond, making us laugh in the middle of an elite summit.
“You good, Jax?” He directed his question to me as we shook hands.
“Yeah, I’m straight.” I nodded.
I saw Pierce, Storm’s father, in the far-right corner. He had a cigar in his mouth and was talking to one of the other guys about a bottle of wine before he looked our way. Then he came over and shook our hands.
“What’s up, old man?” I embraced him.
“Everything okay?” He asked as we parted. I nodded, and he walked around and went to Judah.
At the head of the long table was the Don of all Don’s.
I offered my respect to him by bowing my head.
Mateo was from Italy; though we all had Dons to oversee our region, he was the leader of every Mafia in the world.
He was probably eighty years old, but his position was highly respected.
Mateo didn’t look dangerous. He looked like the kind of man who should’ve been feeding pigeons in a plaza.
But I also know that power doesn’t age. It just gets sharper.
Every man on the compound protected him and would kill on his command.
And I felt every year of his leadership in the weight of that room.
Though I had never been in his presence, being in the Mafia meant you knew the rules. Never approach Mateo without his permission or unless you are summoned. You didn’t speak to him unless you were spoken to, and when you did, you watched your tone.
I stood at the table and waited for him to give me the okay to take a seat, which he did with a nod. I scanned the room; I was surrounded by men at a table I had never sat at and waited for someone to tell me the reason for my visit.
The Capo next to Mateo spoke up, “Welcome to The Black Table, Jennings Mafia. We thought that it’d be important to include you in the final day of the summit.” He paused and blew smoke from his cigar before he ashed it.
Judah and I exchanged glances.
“First, I want to introduce you to the table. You have the leaders of the Mafia families from Italy, Spain, Tokyo, Lagos, Haiti, Nigeria, Jamaica, and Moscow.” He pointed around the table to the gentleman, excluding the last one.
As he introduced them, I placed my hand on my chest, a symbol of respect as I nodded toward each one as he introduced them. They returned the gesture.
“Next, I want to recognize the strength your two families have built. The Jennings-Rockwell alliance has changed the game. Your region has never looked this solid, this unshakable, and with this much revenue. It’s a blueprint.
And we have made the decision to duplicate it.
The Cross family is relocating from Louisiana to New York.
To mirror your success, we’re proposing a union, through marriage.
” He paused for a second before he continued.
“Cross has two daughters, both eligible. Each of you will take one as your wife. This alliance will strengthen the structure and push the Mafia into an era of power we’ve never seen.
Together, you all will be untouchable.” He finally gestured toward the last man at the end of the table, who I’m assuming was Cross.
Trouble and Judah’s eyes shot to me. My jaw ticked, but my expression remained unreadable.
For now, I chose not to let them get a glimpse of the hurricane that was brewing in my chest. Judah, on the other hand, sat there tapping the table, like he was bored.
But I knew him well enough to sense that he was just waiting for me to make the first move.
The Capo got quiet, for a minute too long. I took it as an invitation to speak my piece.
“With all due respect. I’m honored you see what we’ve built. But I need to make it clear I’m already engaged. I can’t break that bond, not even for politics.” I disagreed because my loyalty to my girl meant more than their alliance.
Trouble hadn’t spoken yet. Instead, he put the cigar that he was smoking down and watched everyone in the room, like a lion.
“It’s not a request, it’s a demand.” The Capo doubled down.
“So, what you want us to do? Pick a wife and fall in love by Tuesday?” Judah snapped. Several guns around the room clicked, which caused Trouble to sit up and interrupt.
“What if they refuse?” Trouble asked. It was a question we already knew the answer to. The elites don’t ask you to do anything.
“Then we reclaim our power back from your family one body at a time.” He said as he picked up the cigar again.
The elite from Moscow leaned forward in his seat. He had a deep scar that went across his face from his eyebrow to the bottom of his chin, and a scowl on his face that said he couldn’t be trusted.
I hadn’t even paid attention to the folder sitting in front of him until he opened it, and pictures of Kennedy fell out.
His accent was thick as he read the file.
“Kennedy Davenport, age thirty. Works as a psychologist, owns Mind Over Matter, Inc. The daughter of Karen and Leon Davenport. No Mafia ties or alliances.” He closed the folder and made eye contact with me.
“Your fiancé won’t protect the family’s secrets if the law comes.
She will raise a football player and not a leader. She is a liability.”
There were several pictures of her fine ass on the table that were taken at her clinic.
Opening, closing, receiving deliveries, walking to her car, and sitting in the parking lot with her coffee cup.
Her five-foot-five, thick frame that filled out every inch of her slacks and button-ups jumped from every image.
But despite how good she looked in each picture, the fact that they had even done research on her took everything in me not to jump over the table and crush his throat.
I let him talk because I was done with the back and forth, I wasn’t convincing anyone about shit I had going on. My mind was already made up.
“Jennings, if you go forward with your marriage, outside of the alliance, you will force our hands. Your new bride will be one of Cross’ daughters. The relationship with Ms. Davenport ends today. Final warning.” He said as he crossed his hand and sat back in the seat.
Being born into the Mafia, I was no stranger to guidelines and mandates.
I also knew what I was getting into when I accepted the role of underboss.
Knew the strength and the weight that it would hold.
I also knew the consequences for disrespect, because I had given them to niggas a million times.
But KD made me reckless. She would make me go against everybody at this table for her without hesitation, knowing I would lose.